


Penalty Box

by QueenOfBrooklyn



Series: Hockey Dads [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, dads, eric dad, hockey bro, jack dad, penalty box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfBrooklyn/pseuds/QueenOfBrooklyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when Jack Zimmermann, hockey start, is left alone to babysit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penalty Box

**Author's Note:**

> So, more fluff yet again. This was inspire by another tumblr photo that can be found [here](http://justdangle.tumblr.com/post/134903204195)
> 
> Also, if you've already read The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, timeline wise, this oneshot would obviously happen first aha (I'm trying to see if I can place them in a series in chronological order).

“Sweetheart?” Eric called out as he pushed open the front door, which was proving to be a difficult task while juggling four bags of groceries all while trying to not slip and slide across their front porch because of the ice. He didn’t care that he’d been living on the east coast since he was eighteen, or that he’d been skating since he was a boy, ice and boots were not the same as ice and skates, no matter how good your balance was. 

“In the den,” the deep, familiar voice called back. Eric toed off his boots and headed to the kitchen, his arms full of groceries. He placed the bags down before he shed his jacket, and scarf, and mittens, and hat, and his second sweater. He kept the first one on. No the cold wasn’t something he was used to yet either, okay? You can stop the chirping now Jack, thank you very much. 

The groceries could wait before being put away, he had more important things to tend to. He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling up what his toque had flattened down over the course of the day. As he walked into the den, he found Jack, lounging on the couch, his sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table with a book in his lap. He tilted his head back against the cushions of the couch as he heard Eric come in. 

“Hi,” he greeted the blonde, who was barely in Jack’s field of vision until he stepped up to the back of the couch and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Jack’s lips. 

“Mhmm, hello,” Eric hummed. He pressed a second peck to his lips before straightening up and patting the brunette’s firm chest. “So, may I ask why my phone has been blowing up all day about a tweet you sent out this morning?” he smirked. He rounded the couch and sat on the other end of it. 

Jack sighed, snapping the book shut and tossing it gently on the coffee table. “First, you, and the PR team, complain that I don’t have a twitter, then you complain that I don’t use it, and now you’re complaining that I do?” he asked, raising a brow at him quizzically. 

“Oh, honey, I’m not complaining,” Eric chuckled, reaching out and giving Jack’s arm a gentle squeeze. He fished his phone out from his back pocket and pulled up the photo that had been attached to the tweet in question. “But a penalty box? Really, Jack?” 

“Ah, you saw that did you?” 

“Of course I did Jack; it went viral in ten minutes! It’s still trending on twitter!” Jack blinked blankly at him. This boy. 

“Where is our star player?” Jack pulled out the baby monitor from beside him, holding it up with a little shake. 

“Passed out,” he informed Eric. 

“Shall I even bother asking if she’s been good today?” Bittle laughed. He stretched his legs out and propped them onto Jack’s thighs. Jack, in turn, rested his hands on his ankles. 

“It’s not that she was bad,” he replied. “But she couldn’t sit still. Wonder who she gets that from,” he shot a playful glance at Eric who simply rolled his eyes. Of course she took from Eric; she was technically, biologically his. But the blond could also name at least a half a dozen things she got from her other father as well.  
“So she was crawling and rolling all over the place while I was trying to watch game tapes and actually get some work done, so I was afraid that if I took my eyes off of her she’d hurt herself and she started sobbing the second I left her in the playpen,” he sighed. 

Bitty hummed, nodding his head, trying not to get too distracted by the circles Jack’s thumb was rubbing on exposed skin of his ankle bone. “She hates that thing.” 

“And seeing as that little plastic chair-thing that she loves to sit in so much got _broken_ last week…I won’t name any names but...” 

“Excuse me Mr. Zimmermann,” Bittle gasped, his accent was slipping in a little more than usual, which made Jack smirk ever so slightly. “Shall I remind you _who_ left the hook seat in the middle of the kitchen floor when they knew that I was going to be baking in there? You know how distracted I get, I have better things to be worrying about than where I should be putting my feet!” His eyes narrowed at Jack who grinned at him innocently. 

“Let’s not have this fight again, eh?” the taller suggested. 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re just afraid you’ll lose again.” This made Jack chuckle, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips. 

“Anyway,” he said as he pulled away. “The diaper box was just the right size so I cut some holes in it and plonked Daisy in it, and voila! She loved it, didn’t make a peep.” 

“And at what point did the box stop advertising Huggies and start advertising the NHL?” Eric teased, nudging Jack with his foot. “Was that before or after you had to ‘actually get some work done’.” 

“What happened to the ‘No chirping in the house’ rule,” Jack accused. 

“You chirp me all the time anyway!” The other man exclaimed. 

“What am I going to do with you?” Jack wrapped his large and around one of Eric’s ankles and tugged, dragging him down from a seated position to a more horizontal one as he let out a surprised squeak. Jack slotted himself in between his legs and placed an arm on each side of his head, hovering over him. 

“Not much, you’re stuck with me Zimmermann, remember?” It was Bitty’s turn to grin innocently, bringing up his left hand between them and wiggling his fingers, making the gold band on the second to last one glint in the light. “The real question is what am I going to do with you? Making makeshift penalty boxes for our daughter out of diaper boxes…” He shook his head, chuckling lightly. 

“I thought it was pretty cute,” Jack mumbled, pressing gentle kisses down Eric’s jaw. “Besides she was already dressed for the occasion, no thanks to you.” 

“Are you going to blame me for everything today?” he laughed, hooking a leg around Jack’s waist and slipping his arms around his neck as well. 

“Who else should I blame for this?” Jack whispered into his ear, pressing his hips down into Bittle’s, making the _growing problem_ at hand a little more obvious. As if on cue, soft whimpering the quickly escalated into crying started coming from the baby monitor from the other end of the couch. 

Jack let out a frustrated groan before letting himself gently collapse on top of his husband. 

“Come on,” Bitty laughed, kissing the side of his head and patting his side gently. “I’ll go get her; you make yourself useful and go put away the groceries that are sitting on the kitchen counter.” 

With another groan, Jack rolled off Eric and pushed himself into a standing position, readjusting his jeans ever so slightly just to make things a little more comfortable before making his way to the kitchen. He started putting things away from the bag, wondering once again how they could go through this many sticks of butter in so little time; the team nutritionist would have a conniption if he knew the extent of it. He made a mental note to never invite the man over for dinner, Bitty was already scrutinized enough at it was. 

He was chuckling softly to himself before his foot slipped out from under him. He quickly grabbed onto the edge of the counter so that he didn’t fall onto his ass. As he bent over to pick of the stuffed rabbit, he almost called out his husband’s name. He stopped himself however, remembering how, at lunch time, he’d told himself he’d come back in here to pick It up after Daisy had dropped it. But he never had. 

He kept his lips sealed as he finished putting away the groceries. Now, he wouldn’t tell Bitty this, but maybe that the chair thing had been his fault after all. But it was totally okay, Bits wasn’t hurt and he’d solved the problem with the diaper box today. Their daughter may or may not turn into the biggest hockey bro ever as a result, but that was a small cost to pay, and it wasn’t all bad! She was already at high risk given who her fathers, uncles, and aunt Lardo were. 

Anyway, if he blamed his husband for one more thing today, he might be the one sitting in the penalty box and that was definitely not what he wanted.


End file.
